


Tolerate It

by molstrom



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28706448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/molstrom/pseuds/molstrom
Summary: I was listening to Taylor Swift's "Tolerate It" earlier and this is what came out of my brain...no happy endings here, folks.
Relationships: Juice Ortiz/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	Tolerate It

I’ve been with Juice for over two years now, and while we live together, he frequently spends the night elsewhere, leaving me to wonder when or if he’s coming home. It’s gotten to the point that one of the guys will text me simply saying: ‘He’s not dead,’ so I know that he’s with another woman and not lying in a ditch somewhere. When he is home he seems…disconnected. It always feels like I’m showering him with love and affection and just existing on the crumbs he sees fit to throw my way.

He wasn’t always this way. When we were just dating before his last stint in prison he was attentive and loving. He never even looked at any of the other girls, let alone went home with them. When he got out, he asked me to move in with him and things were really good for a while. I don’t know what changed, he doesn’t tell me anything about the club, but one day he got home with a bruise shaped like a chain on his neck and everything was different. 

It had been months since then and I couldn’t take it anymore. So, while he was out with the club I packed my bags and set them by the door, before sitting on the couch and waiting for him to walk in. When he did he looked at my bags and then at me and said:  
“You’re leaving me?”  
“I love you, Juice. I have loved you for years. But you treat me as if I’m inconsequential to your life, and I can’t take it anymore. I want you back. The Juice who celebrated my love for him and loved me back. You spend more nights with other girls than you do with me. You ignore me when you’re here and you haven’t so much as hugged me in weeks. I love you so much and it seems like you just tolerate me. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you love me as much as I love you and I will stay.”

I watched as his eyes filled with tears and then he came and sat next to me on the couch. He took my hand in his and said:  
“I’m so sorry, my baby. I never meant to make you feel like I don’t love you. That I don’t worship the ground you walk on. I fucked up with the club. I became a rat. I killed Miles. I felt like I didn’t deserve you, so I guess subconsciously I was pushing you away.”  
“That night you came home with the bruise on your neck…Did you try to hang yourself?”  
“Yes.”  
“Why didn’t you just talk to me?”  
“I thought you’d hate me for it.”

I turned to face him better and put my hands on his face before saying:  
“I could never hate you. You are the love of my life, Juice. But the way we’ve been living is not okay…I can’t…Juice, it hurts. It hurts that Jax has to text me to let me know you aren’t dead so I don’t stay up all night worried sick while you’re out fucking someone else. It hurts that you won’t touch me. It hurts that you won’t sleep in our bed with me. I can’t live like this. Things need to change.”  
“They will. I’m so sorry, babe. Please don’t leave me.”  
“I won’t. But if things don’t change, there will be no third chance. Okay?”  
“Okay. Can we go to bed now?”  
“Yes…please.”  
He stood up and picked me up before walking into our bedroom.

That was three months ago and things have been really good since then. He almost seems like he’s back to normal and that everything will be okay. I’m setting the table for dinner when I get a text from Jax saying:  
‘He’s not dead, but he won’t be home tonight.’  
I take a deep breath and text back:  
‘Is it club business?’  
Jax responds immediately with:  
‘No. I told him to come home, darlin’.’

I put my phone in my pocket as my tears start to fall and turn off the oven before leaving the room. I quickly pack my things and leave the house, sliding the key through the mail slot. As I get in my car I send Juice a text saying:  
‘If it’s all in my head, tell me now. Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow. I know my love should be celebrated. But you tolerate it.’  
I watch as the dots pop up like he’s typing, but then they disappear, so I drive away from our house, dropping my phone out the window as I do.


End file.
